Chapter 2

"Chloe, I hand over my whole paycheck to you. Where am I supposed to get the money?"

She rolled her eyes, pulled a hundred-dollar bill from her purse, and slapped it against my chest.

"You really are a useless piece of trash. I have a million things to spend money on. Just buy three lobsters. A grown man like you doesn't need to eat that kind of luxury."

I let out a silent sneer.

A useless piece of trash?

If memory served me right, ever since we tied the knot, Chloe had never worked a single day. She lived off my hard-earned money, and now her deadbeat father had barged in to leech off me too.

Who was the real trash here?

No matter. Let them push a little more. Everything that belonged to me, I was going to take back from this family, penny by penny.

"Oh, you must be Lucas! You can just call me Aunt Tiffany. Arthur always talks about you. He says you work hard and you're quite the ambitious young man!"

Tiffany, who was forty years younger than Arthur, swayed toward me and patted my shoulder with familiar ease.

Even with a second chance at life, having a woman practically my own age act like my elder still made my skin crawl.

At thirty, Tiffany had an hourglass figure and carried herself with mature, practiced allure.

While she wasn't stunningly gorgeous, she was precisely the kind of trophy woman naive old men lost their minds over.

Arthur threw me a disdainful glare.

"Hmph. If I hadn't lent him that cash back then, would he have made anything of himself? Lucas, my family did you a life-changing favor. You’d better never forget that."

With that, he wrapped his arm around Tiffany's waist and tapped her nose playfully.

"Your Aunt Tiffany has refined taste; she needs quality nutrition. Our family still doesn't have a son to carry on the family name.”

“My health is still great, so I plan on having another boy. We're going to stay here for a few months while we try to conceive. You don't have a problem with that, do you, Lucas?"

His words sounded like he was asking for permission, but his tone brooked no argument.

"Dad, this is your home too. Of course you can stay."

After the brutal price I paid in my past life, I knew these people were a pack of bloodthirsty wolves.

Saying no right now would only trigger an immediate blowout, and I wasn't going to play into their hands.

Chloe clung to Arthur’s arm, putting on a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Of course, Dad! You can stay as long as you want! By the way, that government buyout check for your old land... did it clear yet? There’s this luxury car I’ve been eyeing recently... Could you maybe..."

I hid a smirk and chimed in, "Dad, isn't that money reserved for raising your future son?"

Arthur's face instantly darkened, and he yanked his arm out of Chloe's grasp.

"Don't even dream about it! Every cent of that is going to my boy!"

Chloe blew a fuse.

"Dad, have you lost your damn mind?! Am I not your flesh and blood?! Why are you being so selfish?!"

Seeing the tension flare, Tiffany hurried over to play peacemaker, clutching Arthur's hand.

"Arthur, calm down. Your blood pressure is high. Don't work yourself up; your health comes first. Chloe, the payout hasn't arrived yet. Once it hits, I'll talk to him for you, don't worry."

Chloe scoffed loudly, completely unimpressed.

"Save your fake act! The only reason my dad won't give me the money is because you've been poisoning his ear against me!"

Tiffany lowered her head, looking utterly wounded as she gazed up at Arthur.

"Arthur, I swear I didn't... She's making things up..."

"How dare you raise your voice at Tiffany?! She's going to be your stepmother!"

Furious, Arthur raised his hand, ready to slap Chloe across the face.

"Screw that! My mom isn't even cold in her grave, and you're already parading this new woman around! She's gonna roll in her grave and haunt your ass tonight!"

I stood off to the side, watching this dog-eat-dog spectacle with immense satisfaction.

Chloe was shallow and greedy. Whenever her friends bought a designer bag or a new car, she just had to copy them.

The only reason she welcomed Arthur into our home was because she was drooling over his hundred-thousand-dollar government buyout check.

As for Arthur, he had been a cheapskate his whole life.

He believed only a son counted as real family blood, stubbornly determined to leave every dime to an unborn boy while giving his daughter nothing.

Now that his dried-up tree was supposedly blooming again, he worshiped Tiffany—the woman who promised him an heir—hanging onto her every word.

And Tiffany, who was only here to drain his bank account, obviously had zero intention of talking him into sharing the wealth with his daughter.